


Letting Go

by Miso



Series: A War He Can't Forget [16]
Category: SCTV (Canada TV)
Genre: M/M, Switching, Vacation, Vacation Boning, floyd learning to be less emotionally constipated is so good im sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-09
Updated: 2017-07-09
Packaged: 2018-11-29 19:07:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11447181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miso/pseuds/Miso
Summary: Floyd needed a vacation. And a few other things.





	Letting Go

**Author's Note:**

> i swear i meant for this to be more than fuckin' but oops. :P this is meant to be a cute lil breather after "emotional vomit" bc that one got Intense so have some cute earl/floyd boning with switching action!!!

Crickets and waves lapping at the beach nearby are a nice soundtrack. A vacation is exactly what you needed. Especially after "The Incident" earlier this summer. Part of you isn't sure if anyone'll ever let you forget the Great Robertson Meltdown of '81. You doubt they should. Poor Bob and Doug didn't deserve an earful of your aggressively suicidal wrath, and neither did anyone else in that cafeteria. You've already arranged for flowers and vouchers for free meals at a nice restaurant to be sent to the poor Maudlin Show writer and intern you terrorized. (Bob and Doug? They just said you could make it up to them by buying them some beer and back bacon. They're either way too nice or really stupid. Maybe both.)

You're currently half-asleep in a hammock at dusk on Kauai. You've always loved Hawaii, but you've never gone anywhere but Honolulu. This was what you needed, not a trip to an overcrowded tourist-riddled city. A nice, secluded vacation house, rented by the owners to travelers, for a couple of weeks. A hammock tied between two palm trees, near the beach.

You hear shuffling footsteps in the sand and open your eyes behind your sunglasses, smiling up at Earl. "Hey."

"Hey, yourself. You planning on sleeping out here?"

"Maybe. It's warm enough." You make a show out of putting your hands behind your head and stretching out. He laughs softly, placing a hand on your bare chest.

"You have room for me?" he asks, softly, almost inaudible over the waves and dusk insects and seabirds.

"Always," you answer. He manages to clamber into the hammock with you, resting his head on your chest and sighing quietly. You drape an arm over his shoulders, rubbing little circles with your fingertips. His breath is warm and tickles your skin slightly. The two of you tangle your legs together, and he looks up at you with nothing but adoration in his eyes.

_If I died right now,_ you think, _this is what I would want heaven to be._ You smile at him and run your hand down his side to his hip and then back to his shoulder. He purrs softly and knots his fingers into the fabric of your open button-down, the little noise of happiness he makes sending a tingle down your spine. You curse yourself a little- where in the fuck is your self control, man?- before freezing momentarily when he smiles and says, "Easy, there, tiger," while adjusting his position to accommodate for your stirring cock.

"Sorry," you mutter, blushing a little. "You do things to me, doll."

"It's kind of flattering." Earl lets go of your shirt and instead lets his fingertips slide underneath it just slightly, brushing your nipple and making you shudder. "But I'm not doing it on the beach. I'd rather not spend the rest of our trip trying to get sand out of my... everywhere."

You can't argue with that. You make the walk back to the rental house romantic, as romantic as you can. You press kisses to his forehead and temple and slip your hand into his back pockets and whisper sweet (and, sure, slightly naughty) nothings into his ear. Once you're safe in your bedroom, though, you take a deep breath and let another brick in the wall you built up around yourself dislodge itself slightly.

"Earl?" you whisper his name to get his attention as he's kissing your neck. He makes a noise of acknowledgment against your skin, and while you briefly pause to bury your nose in his hair and take in his smell and how he feels against your body, warm and heavy and soothing, you force the brick out of place a little bit more. You take one of his hands, resting on your hip, and move it to your ass.

He glances up at you and pauses his kisses and kitten-licks to pull back enough to speak. "... You trying to tell me something?"

"Maybe."

He's quiet. Then he smiles. _He understood._ He brings his other hand up to caress your face and run his thumb over your lips, and you practically melt into his arms. God, you don't know why you're such a sucker for that move, but you are. You shrug your shirt off and whimper quietly as he turns his attention to your collarbone, sucking and biting just enough to leave unimpressive-but-present hickeys. You prefer to nearly turn his skin purple, to mark your territory aggressively. There's something really hot about the way he gently does it, though. It's almost more commanding than leaving a bright black-and-blue spot on your neck.

You shudder as his hands begin wandering your body and he gently walks you backwards until the backs of your knees hit the bed. Almost instinctively, they buckle and you fall back on the mattress. Earl smiles as he looks over you, pulling his shirt off (god, but he looks so fuckin' hot in a tank top!) and lowering himself atop you. You gasp quietly and tip your head back as your clothed erections rub against each other, and Earl presses his lips to your throat. He leaves another bruise just to the side of your Adam's apple and you feel another tremor run through you. "That's my move," you manage to whisper. You feel him smile against your skin in response.

"Mine now," he answers. "Just like you." He's clearly taken a few pages out of your book when it comes to topping. You groan softly as he unbuttons and unzips your shorts, gently stroking your length. "At least you're hard..."

"God, with the things you're doing to me, I dunno how I wouldn't be." You smile at him. He smiles back and crawls atop you fully, the two of you aligning yourselves into a much less awkward position. He kisses your lips, your forehead, everywhere he can reach, as your hands explore his body; without warning he pulls your underwear down and teases the head of your cock with his fingertips, and you let out a quiet groan and dig your nails into his skin just a little. He curses under his breath and liberates you of your pants and underwear in a quick movement.

"No fair."

"What's wrong...? What's not fair?"

"You still have pants on..." You smirk and tug at his shorts. "Tease." He lets out a low chuckle and pulls the garment off.

He's not wearing underwear. "God, you knew what you were getting up to, didn't you?"

"I figured we'd end up in the bedroom before the night was out." He kisses you again, gently. "I thought I'd be the one pinned to the mattress, but I'm not complaining. It's been a while since we did this."

"Because it's kinda terrifying to me, still." You blush and run your hands over his chest, appreciating the feeling of the soft, thick hair between your fingers. He makes a rumbling purring noise, but sits back on his knees.

"If you're scared, we don't have to."

"No, I... I want to." You close your eyes and take a deep breath. "Earl, I... I need to learn that... that not everything is under my control. I trust you. Teach me."

He's quiet for a second, but then he nods and crawls atop you again. "Can I at least make it romantic?"

"I'm not gonna tell you no."

He smiles and presses a kiss to your lips. He paws around on the nightstand for a second before gripping the lube and generously slicking his cock, then using the leftovers to coat his fingers. "You want me to-"

"Well, I wasn't asking for it to hurt." You bite your lip and sigh quietly as he slips one finger into you, opening your legs to give him more access. He's so gentle. As he presses in the second and third fingers, and you hiss quietly in a combination of pain and pleasure, Earl hushes you and kisses your cheek, whispering that he promises it'll feel good in a minute and if you need him to stop just say so. You usually abide by stoplight rules. Neither of you has ever called red, but knowing the option is there is kind of reassuring.

Earl slips his fingers from you and kisses your lips again. "How do you wanna do this?" he asks, softly. "On your back, all fours, you on top...?"

"I'm good right here." You stroke his cheek gently. "I wanna see your face." Earl nods and nudges his hips forward. You tense momentarily as the head of his cock brushes your hole, then relax when he kisses you and gently places his hands on your hips, feeling electricity run through you as the tip of his dick slips into you and he lets out a whispery moan.

" _Fuck,_ babe..." he breathes, setting his teeth in his lip for a moment as you both adjust. "You alright?"

"Mmhm." You growl softly and lock your legs around his waist. He loves that. "Please... doesn't hurt." He gently presses in deeper, then pulls out painfully slowly. You let your head loll back against the pillows and grip his shoulders.

You can almost see yourselves on the cover of one of those tacky paperbacks he reads, almost hear the text in your head. _Ivory fingertips dug into the surprisingly handsome jester's olive-skinned shoulders as he rammed his love-stick deeper into the handsome, troubled prince._ You bite your lip and pull Earl in for a kiss to fend off laughter at the very thought. He seems to notice your smile and lets out a soft chuckle. "Everything alright? Am I doing that bad?"

"No," you answer, trying not to giggle. "I just... had a thought."

"What kinda thought?"

"If we were a couple in one of your tacky paperbacks."

Earl snorts quietly and kisses you softly, his hips still rocking at a steady rhythm. "You're silly."

"Can't you see it, though?"

"Mmm, yeah, I can." He kisses your forehead and smiles warmly at you. "But we're not in one of my trashy novels. We're us."

"Nothin' better." You gasp as the head of his cock hits your prostate. "Oh, fuck, Earl!"

"Find the sweet spot?"

"Yessss!" You dig your nails into his shoulders and pull him in close, locking your legs around his waist tighter to pull him in deep. He lets out a soft "whoa!" as you do so, suddenly chest-to-chest with you. "Harder!"

"You drive a hard bargain," Earl murmurs, picking up speed as well as he can, clawing the sheets a little as he grunts with need. Part of you wonders if this is how he sees you when you're atop him; primal, animal, driven by lust, but so gorgeous it almost hurts. His eyes are nearly black, glasses slipping down his nose, hair a wild mess. You can see little bruises blossoming where you gripped his shoulder just a little too hard. His cheeks are dusted with a light pink flush, and again, you wonder if this is what he sees when you're topping.

You pull him into a kiss just in time to muffle another cry from your lips and a groan from his as he hits your prostate again and you feel yourself tense against your will. He snarls and pounds into you, so intensely you can't be sure you won't be a little bruised in the morning. You bite your lip to hold back a howl as you feel heat spreading through your body, starting in your groin. Knots wind themselves in your belly. You whimper and grip him tight.

"Close," you manage to pant into his ear, as he takes the opportunity to grip your hips hard enough to leave marks of his own. The pain fades into pleasure and leaves you squirming. He kisses your neck and whispers to you.

"Come. It'll put me over, too."

You're powerless to resist him. You bite his shoulder (and relish in the "fuck!" this gets you) to muffle your cries as you come, painting your stomach and his with ribbons of come as your toes curl and you cling to him like he's the only thing stopping you from falling off a cliff. In response, Earl groans, a sound from deep in his chest. You feel him twitch inside you as he fills you with his seed. You think, for just a moment, that if this was one of his tacky paperbacks, this was where you'd be babbling some nonsense about "breed me, you wild stallion" and he'd be dripping with sweat and grunting like a rutting stag. You like this version better.

He sighs, exhausted, once he's finished and smiles at you. "Better?" he asks, nudging his foggy glasses back to their proper place. You've always liked that he leaves his glasses on. It's cute. He says it's because it's a lot hotter to make love to you instead of a blurry blob that vaguely resembles you.

"Better," you affirm, kissing his forehead. "... Thanks, baby."

"Mm." Earl purrs his assent before whispering, "Can you let me up?"

"Oh." You chuckle nervously as you release your still-solid grip on him. "Sorry."

He smiles again and shrugs nonchalantly before pulling out (you whimper quietly, he hushes you) and laying beside you. Earl presses his lips to yours with a content sigh, gently brushing his thumb over your cheekbone lovingly. "You okay, baby?"

You nod. "I'm okay." Usually, when you say that after letting Earl penetrate you, that's a lie. You feel exposed. Psychologically naked, if you will; like that dream everyone has where somehow you're back in school and there's an important test you didn't study for and also you forgot your clothes. But now? Now, you're not lying. You really do feel okay.

Earl's smile grows and he strokes your hair. "You wanna get in the shower?" he asks softly, his eyes locked on yours. "Get the come off us, anyway?"

You nod. Standing on shaky legs, the two of you cross into the bathroom. As you step into the warm water of the shower with Earl, you let him take you in his arms and kiss you.

You're learning to let go. And it feels pretty good.


End file.
